Fliriting with the Dark
by ChaChaFinesse
Summary: Please Read Resurgence of the Dark First! You will be lost if you haven't already. Link in my stories page. For six months Estara has been chasing the nameless darkness that is lurking over Alagaesia, but when Angela pops up and sets her on the right trail, she's uneasy. Will she have what it takes to put an end to this once and for all?
1. Chapter 1

Hey Y'all! ChaCha here! This is the long awaited sequel to Resurgence of the Dark. I wish I could say that you wouldn't have to read the other story for the other one to make sense, but you really should. I pretty much don't own anything, not Eragon or Alagaesia, cause as I'm sure you've guessed I'm not Christopher Paolini, but I love playing around in the universe that he created so here it is. But please enjoy!

Oslyn sat quietly in the chair before the desk covered in paper and listened to her mother quietly argue with the man in expensive looking robes. Oslyn noted that the robes were slightly off kilter and rumpled, but nothing too far out of the ordinary, the only thing giving him away was the smell of hay and the single piece that clung to his long hair, just behind his ear, and the lingering smell of a woman's perfume on his skin. She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing that she could just turn off her brain for a while, not notice the things that she did, not draw the obvious conclusions that she always did.

She heard faint footfalls and was the only one not surprised when the office door flew open, and Murtagh strode in. Her dark eyes appraised him, gleaning quite a bit despite his standoffish demeanor. She watched as the man shot a look at the long haired man next to her mother.

"What's going on here, Cale?" Murtagh asked Oslyn noting the irritation in his voice.

"This woman, Shana" the long haired man gestured to her mother, "Simply refuses to leave without seeing you." Cale paused glaring at her mother, and then sighing, continuing. "We've tested her daughter three times, and this woman simply refuses to believe that her daughter has no magic."

"That is not the case," Shana snapped. She took a deep breath calming herself before turning imploring to Murtagah. "I understand that my daughter does not process a gift for magic, but she is gifted."

"Madam," Murtagh said kindly sitting behind his desk, "I run an academy for magic users, not a school house. I can not take on a student with no ability for magic."

"Give her five minutes," her mother begged. "Believe me she will change your mind." Murtagah sighed and nodded. Oslyn looked down at the floor, she didn't want to go through this again, not when it would just make other people scared of her, accuses her of being afflicted by evil spirits. Her mother placed a gentle hand on her arm, and she looked up from the floor into her mother's dark tired eyes.

Oslyn took a deep breath and looked at Murtagah, "You've had a fire in here recently," she gestured with her eyes to a corner of the room. "Is been repaired by magic, but inexpertly. You can still see the singe marks where the wall meets the floor." She paused her gaze drifting to Cale, "He," she said pointing, "Has been having an affair with," she sniffed the air closing her eyes thinking, "a student. A student from a well off family, by the smell of the perfume. They've been meeting in the stables, I'm sure that someone has seen them, as one of the stable boys seemed particularly embarrassed when he saw Cale leading us here. And you Agetlam," she turned her gaze to Murtagah appraisingly. "You are actually left handed, though you do a well enough job with your right. The man who taught you musty have been from the school of thought that one who writes with their left hand is bound to misfortune, so he taught you to use your right. And considering the effort that you put into those lessons I can assume that you were very close to him."

"Sorcery," Cale snapped. Murtagh shot him a glare and the man silenced.

"How did you do that little one?" Murtagah asked kindly.

"I notice things," Oslyn said firmly. "Things that most people don't see, or choose to ignore." Murtagh reached out and touched her mind and she recoiled, throwing up a barrier that she knew was nearly impenetrable, Shock crossed Murtagh's face, before he smirked seemingly impressed.

"You can shield your mind?" he asked. Oslyn nodded.

"Her first tutor, Kairen, taught her how," her mother chimed in. "Before she was…" Oslyn looked back down at the floor. Her first tutor had been an old woman, who had a little gifts with magic, enough to be the town healer where Oslyn had fist lived in Surda.

"What happened to her?" Murtagah asked firmly.

"She was killed," her mother said firmly. "The townsfolk where we lived believed that Oslyn was being possessed by evil spirits and that Kairen was shielding her, teaching her to be an evil magician. In their fervor they lynched her, and then came for Oslyn and myself. We fled, but the same thing has happened everywhere we've tried to settle."

"Someone finds out about her gift," Murtagh nodded, "And assume that dark magic is at work. Though that is clearly not the case." Behind her, Oslyn's mother breathed a sigh of relief. Oslyn knew her mother never believed her possessed by spirits, but most ordinary people who learn of her gift merely assumed that was the case. That's why they had come to Bullridge, to the Academy, If anyone was going to know that Oslyn was not using magic it would be the people here.

"But what is she?" Cale asked.

"Observant," Murtagh smirked settling back in his chair. "She seems to have a gift for noticing things that others would find beneath themselves."

"It goes further than that," her mother chimed in. "She remembers perfectly everything she reads or sees. If you were to ask her to she could recall the placement of the vase in the entry way to the dining hall, even though we were only there for a moment, Not only that but she's extraordinarily intelligent. She's taught herself to speak the tongue of the wandering tribes and even a little of the Urgals language as we passed both of those parties on our way here. She picked it up as effortlessly as she breathes. She can do math that boggles most, and reads in this language and dwarfish. I suspect that she may even be able to speak it, though I have never had the opportunity to test that theory. She knows if a person is lying simply based on the way they carry themselves."

"Just a mother's pride," Cale spat.

"Tell her three things," Shana snapped. "One lie and two truths, I guarantee that she will know the difference."

"Fine," Cale sneered. Oslyn raised her eyes to the man she was quickly becoming annoyed with. "I am an only child. My father was a kind man. And I think that this is a waste of time."

"You told two lies," Oslyn smiled, though she knew it never reached her eyes. Her smiles were mostly reflex. People found her less terrifying if she acted like a normal little kid. "You are not an only child, you know that you have at least one sibling, you voice shook slightly when you said this one, making it the most obvious of your lies. But by the clenching of your fist and the flare of your nostrils I assume that your sibling was not by your mother, but born out of wedlock. Your father was not a kind man. You flinched as you said that, meaning that he probably beat you a lot as a child, the twitch on your cheek when I mention him gives me the impression that he gave you that scar you bear there. But I can see from your eyes that you do wish he had been a kind man, so you try to remember him as such." Cale's face went ashen, just as everyone's did when Oslyn laid their secrets out to bare, and she couldn't help but throw in a final parting blow, "And by now, you aren't thinking this was a waste of time, so I suppose then it was three lies."

Murtagah burst out laughing, and Cale stomped his foot petulantly, and stormed out of the room slamming the door as hard as he could behind him. "What can I do for you then Shana?" Murtagah smiled kindly. Her mother took a deep shakey breath, but it was Oslyn's voice that rang out in the office,

"My mother doesn't think I know, but she's very ill. She has until winter, and she doesn't think that a girl of eleven will last long on her own. Well at least not one like me." Her mother crumpled into a chair and began sobbing. Oslyn knew that her mother had tried to keep the truth of the situation from her, but she also knew that her mother knew she could hide nothing from her daughter.

"But why here?" Murtagh asked perplexed. "If her gifts are what you say they are, then any number of traditional schools would love to have her as a student, even on scholarship."

"We met an herbalist near Furnost," Shana said her voice still shaking from with held sobs. "She said if we could just meet you that you would take her in, that you would understand."

"An herbalist," Murtagh's face drew down in something that Oslyn thought resemble a scowl, but his eyes told her he was deep in thought. He leaned slightly over the desk his eyes piercing, "Do you recall her name?"

"I think it was Angela," Shana said quietly, and Oslyn knew that her mother was worried that the herbalist's advice was false. Murtagh seemed to drawn deeper into his thoughts as he sat back in his chair and stared off into the distance. Oslyn had seen the look of recognition that had crossed his face when her mother had mentioned the traveling herbalist. She was grateful however, that her mother never mentioned that Angela had offered to read her future.

Oslyn's curiosity was overwhelming and had agreed, but when the herbalist cast a set of dragon bones for her, the woman went pale, and her eyes widened with something that looked, to Oslyn, like fear. She had looked Oslyn in the eyes, and she had noticed that despite the woman's youthful appearance, her eyes seemed ancient. Anglea had said nothing after that, except that Oslyn was an exceptional child and to seek out Murtagh at the Academy, that he would understand. And that if Oslyn ever need the herbalists help, that their paths would cross again in Osilon.

Oslyn watched Murtagh, and she suddenly felt like her fate was in his hands. He looked over at her and a smile pulled at his face. He sighed heavily, "Well, if she sent you then I simply can not refuse. That woman is meddlesome, but she does knows things seemingly beyond the reach of ordinary mortals."

Murtagh set them up in a room in a tower of the academy, Oslyn read, and wrote, and studied. Her mother was visited by students trying to find a cure for what she had, but none were successful. Murtagh even visited every day, asking after Shana's health, and quizzing Oslyn on what she was doing, often coaching her in her languages, often saying that she should attend the classes or lectures, "You're more brilliant than any student we've ever had, it'd be a shame if you didn't keep the other students on their toes."

Though Oslyn knew her mother's days were numbered, she found herself quite happy. She loved the lively debates that the students would draw her into, the fact that they treated her like an equal, the fact that they weren't scared of her. Murtagh too had been so kind to her. She had never actually known her father, he had died of a fever when her mother was still pregnant, but she liked to think that he would have been a lot like Murtagh. Her mother too seemed very happy in her final days. She seemed delighted that Oslyn was being so easily accepted by the students, and was truly delighted at the doting care that she received herself from all of the healers. But everyday that passed, Oslyn couldn't help but notice that her mother got a little weaker, that her skin grew paler, that the dark circles under her eyes got darker.

True to what she said, Oslyn's mother had passed away on the longest night of the year, two day's before Oslyn's twelfth birthday. Nearly the entire academy had turned up to her mother's burial, which touched Oslyn to no end.

Oslyn looked around, at the small graveyard covered in fresh snow. She leaned down and brushed a light dusting of snow off the stone that marked her mother's grave, and sat down. It was almost eerily quiet, but Oslyn actually found that a comfort, it seemed to calm her mind a little. "It's my birthday mommy," she said surprised at how weak her own voice sounded. "I love you." She pulled her knees up and tucked them under her chin, resting her forehead on them, wishing that she could cry. She'd read somewhere that crying could be cathartic, but she had never been good at expressing her emotions. There had never really been enough room in her head for them, not with everything else that was whizzing around at top speed. Emotions weren't concrete, they didn't act by rules like math, or language or magic. She had them, she understood them, but conveying them to other people had always been difficult for her.

She heard the crunch of feet in the snow and turned unsurprised to see Murtagh standing not far behind her. He walked closer and dropped a heavy cloak around her shoulders. "For someone so smart," Murtagh clucked his tongue at her, "You appear to be lacking common sense."

"Not lacking," Oslyn sighed pulling the cloak around her relishing the warmth. "Choosing not to care." Murtagh was silent for a long time simply sitting with her so that she wasn't alone.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked after a while. Oslyn shrugged, she really hadn't given it any thought. The academy was the first place that felt like home since fleeing their little village in Surda.

"I guess I could find work somewhere," Oslyn frowned.

"That wasn't what I meant," Murtagh shook his head making a dismissive gesture. "I meant here, what are you going to do? You many not have a gift for magic but I think you should stay here, learn everything that you can. Attend the lectures, make the instructors nervous." Oslyn smiled, knowing to what he was referring, one of the teachers had been lecturing about the proper formation for a particular spell when Oslyn had been passing by and overheard it. She'd popped her head into the class room and very publicly had told him he was wrong, that he was improperly phrasing the spell, using the wrong noun in the ancient language. He ignored her, and of course the spell went awry, and after that students were clamoring for her to check their work.

"You've been so kind to me already," Oslyn tried to protest. Murtagh made that dismissive gesture again,

"Stay," Murtagah smiled. "Study, when you've read all the books we have, I'll send to Vroengard for more. When you've finished that, we'll figure something out." He rose from the snow, and offered his hand to her, she looked up at the tall man before her and smiled genuinely, for the first time in a very long time, and took his hand, letting him lead her back to the academy.

Author's Note: This is just a little prologue to introduce a pivotal new character in the story. Hope you all liked it! Please Review.

~ChaCha


	2. Chapter 2

Estara sat before the burnished mirror in her room, running a comb through her silver hair. She was beginning to grow irritated at the long months of searching turning up absolutely nothing. She could see that Eldwin was growing annoyed too, his temper was very close to the surface. It had been six months since Eragon had asked them to look in to the dark presence hovering over Alagaesia and the mysterious 'she' that her brother had mentioned before he had died. It felt as if they were chasing a ghost, they'd hear rumors and fly off to investigate only to find nothing when they arrived except vague accounts of a veiled woman in black that most people had attributed to urban legends.

Worst of all, she had not had a single vision. Nothing to tell her that this 'she' was real, that they were following the right path, not even for something as silly as tripping and scraping her knee. When she meditated, and looked inside for the spark of magic where she got her visions from it was still there, but she could do nothing with it, couldn't even summon a premonition. She was beginning to worry that she'd lost her ability to see the future all together.

Behind her, Estara heard Eldwin sigh heavily, before he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her to her feet, drawing her in close.

_I assume Cali turned up nothing,_ Estara still spoke directly into his mind as often as she could. Despite the fact that the spirits had given her back her voice, she still found verbal communication cumbersome and entirely too slow, even after months of practice.

"No," Eldwin replied, pulling her closer to him, burying his nose in her loose hair. "She didn't. What good is it to have the Rider's library at our disposal if we still can't find out anything." Estara sighed heavily, wishing that there was a simple solution to the problem, that she'd black out and a vision would point her in the right direction, but they had nothing to go on. Except one thing, 'the veiled woman'.

A tall thin woman, wearing all black with an opaque black veil, had been seen popping in and out of the towns and villages around Alagaesia, usually before someone died from an odd illness or a tragic accident. Most people thought that she was a banshee-simply foretelling death, others believed she was a vengeful ghost-there solely to extract revenge, still others simply chalked her up to an urban myth, but it was all that Estara and Eldwin had to go on.

It was true that most people 'tormented' by the black lady had been vile humans. Murders, rapists, con artists, but there was nothing that tied any of the dead together. No common associate, no location they had all visited. 'The veiled woman' seemed to be focusing solely on humans, as far as they knew, the dwarves and elves had not seen her at all.

They'd flown to Gil'ead and had been asking around about the accounts of 'the veiled woman', and indeed had found one, but she'd been an old widow, who'd recently lost her husband and had taken to wearing a veil as part of her morning. Disheartened, they'd flown back to Ilirea, having only arrived back the previous night. Tracker and Gilda were out basking in the sun somewhere, leaving Estara and Eldwin to make their reports to Eragon and Arya, who'd made a last minute trip to Farthern Dur to discuss recent events with Orik, and check in with Cali, an elf Rider who had been in charge of the Library on Vroengard for as long as the island had been habitable.

"Cali rattled off fifty legends that involve a veiled woman, just off the top of her head," Eldwin said. Estara laid her head on his chest and listened to the steady rythem of his heart as he spoke. "There are countless tales of spirits disguising themselves as human for their own amusement, there is the dwarf legend of the Ragni Cardozada, an angry spirit who lures men into the river to drown them, the Elves Reona, a sort of death spirt, the human banshee, and too many shades in the history books that used veils to disguise themselves. Cali says it's impossible if we don't give her more information." He sighed, his chest heaving.

_We'll figure it out, _Estara smirked up at him. _Besides you need to get ready._

"For what?" Eldwin asked his eyes narrowing in irritation.

_The queen as invited us to dinner, _Estara rolled her eyes. _She's had a guest that I know you are eager to meet. _

"Who?" Eldwin asked a hand snaking down her side where he brushed her most ticklish spot, and Estara shrieked in laughter, "I really do love that sound," he laughed tenderly resting his forehead on hers.

Estara playfully swatted his arm and Eldwin let go, a brilliant smile on his face. _Angela's here._

Dinner with the queen and Angela was a fairly quiet affair. It was only the four of them-Tracker, Gilda and Solembum were in a corner of the dining hall speaking rapidly, but the conversation filtered through Estara's connection. Solembum was telling a humorous story about their travels, that was of little consequence to her. Estara was far more curious as to why Angela had turned up here.

"I take it that you are acquainted with the Riders, Angela?" the queen asked.

"I've met Estara before," Angela said spearing a mushroom with her fork and eying it before popping it into her mouth.

"Once," Estara smiled gently. "Almost six months ago."

"You'd never believe it," Angela chuckled. "I was making my way down the Az Ragni, and quite stumbled upon their camp. Though I'm not sure where Eldwin was," Angela shot him a sly look, "But there she was just sitting next to the camp fire." Estara cocked her head to one side curious. That was not at all how she remembered it. The herbalist had appeared as if out of no where just outside her camp.

"Just happened upon it?" the queen asked the disbelief clear in her voice.

"Just so," Angela smirked placing her fork down, and pushing her plate away slightly.

"I have a hard time believing that," the queen laughed.

"And why is that your majesty?" Angela smiled setteling back in her chair.

"You," Eldwin interjected with a winning smile. "Have a tendency to show up when ever something that strikes your fancy comes by. Something that you find 'interesting'," Eldwin finished with a heavy emphasis on the last word.

"That's precisely the case," the queen nodded. "You travel far and wide, no one hearing from you or about you for ages, but then when something happens, you turn up out of the blue. I half expected to see you when the Shade was here with his army." Eldwin shot Estara a quick worried look. They never talked about the Shade, who had been her brother, Gavnar. The memory was still far too painful for Estara.

"I expected it too," Estara said, brushing her grief at her brothers death aside. Remembering Angela's parting words to her on the banks of the river so long ago 'I'll see you in Ilirea.'

"I go where fate takes me," Angela gave Estara a knowing look. "My path is not always my own. For instance recently, I was trying to make my way here from Dras Leona and got caught up in a terrible storm in the plains. After days of walking in the wind and rain I found myself near Bullsridge and the Magic Academy, so I paid Murtagh a quick visit before making my way back down here."

"And how was he?" the queen asked almost hesitantly. Estara had to force back a smile. It had long been assumed that it was Murtagh's blood that ran in the veins of the Royal family, as Queen Nasuada had never married but had a particularly close friendship with the Rider.

"He was well," Angela said with a quirk of a brow. "He has the most incredible student under his tutelage at the moment. Quite a remarkable creature." Estara didn't miss the thinly veiled look of humor that Angela shot her way, but Estara was on the edge of her seat listening. Murtagh never took on personal students. The only time he did was if the person had dark intentions or was extraordinary powerful.

"That's rather fantastic adventure," Eldwin said his voice guarded. "To end up hundred of miles off course from a storm."

"Well," Angela said with a shrug, "You know the autumn storms that you can get on the plains. They can be rather…" Angela paused as if looking for the right word as she twirled her napkin around her finger before finishing "fantastic."

_What are you up to? _Gilda said, looking up from her place with Tracker and Solembum, the gold dragons eyes watching Angela with keen interest.

"Why do you assume I'm up to something?" Angela shrugged feigning innocence.

"Because if half the stories are true," Eldwin said pleasantly "You usually are." Estara shot Eldwin a curious look, but he shook his head slightly and in her mind said _Later._ But Estara was pretty sure she knew the reason behind Gilda's question. It seemed like Angela was attempting to lead them directly to the academy, to whoever this student of Murtagh's was. What Estara couldn't quite figure was the reason. Was this student actually the veiled lady? That seemed highly unlikely. It had to be more than that.

Angela burst out laughing, "Perhaps I am, perhaps not." There was a knock at the door, and Jorah the captain of the queens personal guards entered.

"Your majesty," Jorah bowed "You're needed." Evelyn excused herself and left them alone with Angela, a thousand questions burning in Estara's mind.

"Ask away dragon-child," Angela said easing back in her chair, fixing Estara with a wry smile. Estara ignored the obvious question of how the herbalist knew that she was anxious to ask questions, and cut right to the heart of the issue at hand.

"You surely know of what Eldwin and I have been trying to accomplish here on the main land," she paused here but was only rewarded with a cryptic smile from the curly haired herbalist. Estara was nearly positive that Angela knew, she seemed to know everything that was going on at all times. "And you seem to be pointing us in the direction of Murtagh's student."

"Am I?" Angela scoffed in mock surprise. "I thought I was just making conversation."

_You were definitely pointing,_ Gilda bared her teeth in a grin.

_For you,_ Tracker chimed in, _That was practically heavy handed._

Angela let loose a great guffaw of laughter, "Me? Heavy Handed?" she coughed between laughs. "That, dragon, is one thing I have never been accused of."

_Perhaps not, _Tracker purred. _However it would seem to me that you are showing up offering information on a silver platter._

"What information?" Angela smiled "Simple conversation." Angela was playing coy and it was starting to grate on Estara's nerves.

"Elves are easier to get information from than you," Estara rolled her eyes.

"That my dear child," Angela drew a long fingered hand down her cheek to her chin contemplatively, "I have been accused of."

"Are we supposed to go to Bullsridge or not?" Eldwin asked with a slightly irritated look at Estara for her comment.

Angela face suddenly grew very serious, her body usually alive with an energetic, almost volatile quality grew eerily still and she stared at Eldwin with a gaze that was so intense Estara though she might be staring into his soul. Angela surprised them further by switching to the ancient language, and although the truth could be twisted, it could not be used to tell a falsehood. "What you may or may not find in Bullsridge, you will find as obliging as you will obstructive. It will be as delightful as it is heartrending. But the path you set upon must be of your own making. Only the gods can decree fate and I, am no god."

Her words echoed in the dining room and Estara found it difficult to deal with the weight of those words. There was something about them that touched her soul, something in the, that hit that small part of her where her visions came from and it stirred. She felt the all too familiar pain in her temples and her vision began to darken. She could feel Tracker's surprise as the vision completely overwhelmed her and she was vaguely aware of slumping in her chair before she felt nothing more.

Estara could see Murtagh sitting in front of a fire in what appeared to be his office. He was starring into the depths of the flame as if he was reading something in it. Murtagh stirred as the soft sound of foot steps made their way across the wood floor to a chair opposite his.

"I sorted your correspondence," the young woman who could have been no more than twenty, tall with light caramel colored skin and long black hair, placed a stack of neatly piled papers on a small table next to Murtagh. "The first two require immediate attention." Murtagh grabbed the first letters and scanned each of them.

"More attacks," Murtagh said grimly. "You've charted them? The girl nodded, and Murtagh slumped back into his chair. "You don't have to do that dautr," he sighed and Estara was shocked that he had used the elven word for daughter to describe the dark haired girl who sat rigidly next to him.

"I'm aware of that feoalthr," she smiled sweetly as she called him father. "You tell me that all the time." Murtagh chuckled as he shook his head, before the letters in his hand drew his focus once again.

"But these grisly accounts intrigue you?" Murtagh asked is voice laced with concern.

"Not intrigue me papa," she shook her head. "They're atrocious. But the pattern they seem to follow intrigues me. It's as if whoever is doing this is looking for something, for someone specific. For what, even I can't tell, but what looks random and unconnected, really isn't I just haven't puzzled it out yet."

"I believe you dear," Murtagh chuckled reaching over to grab her hand, giving it a small squeeze. "I had a visitor the other day."

"I'm aware of that," the girl smiled mischievously.

"Of course you are Oslyn," he said setting back in his chair. "Are you surprised?"

"A bit," Oslyn raised a brow. "It's the only day that I wasn't in the academy. I'm surprised that her visit fell on just that day."

"You're not surprised though are you?"

"You're correct," Oslyn looked down at her feet in a seemingly nervous gesture. "From what I've heard of her everything is deliberate, even if others don't know it. But I know that I won't meet her again for some time still."

"What do you mean?" Murtagh asked. "Something she said?" Oslyn nodded her eyes. "You don't need to tell me." Murtagh rose and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Go get some rest, dautr. You look tired."

"I'm not a child papa," she admonished teasingly, but did as he said and rose to leave the room biding him good night as she left the room. The vision followed Oslyn as she climbed a tower, passing a few robed students who greeted her cheerily, to a smallish room, that was sparsely decorated, but Estara noticed the piles of books stacked on every available surface, even a small pile gathering at the foot of the bed. Instead of going to sleep as Murtagh had urged, she moved a lone lamp to a small window seat and placed it on the table.

A giant dragon head, that Estara assumed was Thorn, peaked his head in the open window, and gave Oslyn an exasperated look before withdrawing his head. Sitting with a unopened book in her hand, Oslyn stared out the window, her expression unreadable. She hadn't sat there long, when she seemed to sit up straighter and stared out the window at something.

"Thorn," she stuck her head out the window and looked up at the roof. Immediately the crimson dragon poked his head back down.

_What is it, my little hatchling? _the dragon's voice echoed in Estara's mind as clearly as if he had been speaking to her.

"Did you see that?" Oslyn asked insistent. When the dragon narrowed his eyes in confusion, she pointed "A shadow, like a mist out on the plains." Thorn whipped his head around, and stared intently into the darkness, before withdrawing his head and Estara could see him take flight.

She felt a tugging in her gut and felt like she was being pulled out of the window, and was suddenly standing in the middle of the field and standing before her was a terrifyingly familiar dark figure, the Shade that had been her brother.

"It can't be," Estara said her voice trembling taking a step back. "You're dead. Eragon killed you."

"No sweeting," a feminine voice crooned from the Shades figure. "I'm not dead, your brother is."

"Who are you?" Estara snapped, feeling that she already knew the answer to the question.

"You know who I am sweeting," the shades face twisted into a gruesome smile. "You've been looking for me for months." Estara could feel the vision ending and she returned to her body, sitting up with a start. Eldwin was by her side in an instant, taking her hand in his own. She could feel Tracker anxiously prying at her consciousness

"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded finding it difficulty to speak. There had been so much in such a small amount of time. She took a deep breath trying to steady herself. Murtagh had a daughter? That girl Oslyn had been tracking attacks, were they the same odd occurrences that Eldwin and she had been following for months? Did that girl know something that they didn't?

Estara simply looked up into Eldwin's blue eyes and touched his, Tracker and Gilda's mind replaying the vision. They all seemed just as shock as she did at the revelations in the vision.

_I guess that answers it then,_ Tracker said thoughtfully.

_Answers what?_ Estara asked.

_We're going to Bullsridge,_ Tracker hummed


	3. Chapter 3

Estara awoke to the sound of a popping fire, and groaned. _Two days, _she thought. _I've hardly slept in two days._ She'd gone months without a vision, and now she couldn't seem to shut them off. She snuggled down deeper into her bedroll and thought. These visions, if you could use the term, weren't like any she'd had before. They were disjointed, never giving her a full story, as she'd come to expect but rather giving her brief seconds before moving on.

Last night for instance, she'd seen her gold tree on Vroengard, and then a voice saying that it was sorry, that it hadn't known. The vision had instantly shifted to a dark torch lit cave, with what appeared to be blood on the wall, the iron scent still lingering in her nostrils as the vision shifted again to show a man, who lay struggling to breath in his bed-looking as if he was already in advanced stages of decomposition-though he was technically still alive, a tall willowy blonde woman hovering over him with guilt ridden eyes. Shifting again she was standing in a forest, a short feminine black clad and veiled figure standing before her, long curly brown hair cascading down the figures back. The veil lifted of it's own volition and the face of the defeated Shade peered out of her blood red pupils beady and a woman's voice had crooned 'hello sweeting'

Estara felt Tracker nudge her back gently and his large head dropped into view. _Are you alright?_ he asked.

_No,_ Estara said back, sulking. She rolled on to her back and reached out rubbing Tracker's smooth scales under his chin. _Something doesn't feel right. My visions are all jumbled and I can't seem to sleep. _

_Have you talked to Eldwin?_ Tracker asked, worry trickling through their connection. Estara just shook her head. _Why not?_

_I don't want him to worry,_ Estara shrugged. _You know him. He'll make a mountain out of a molehill and I just don't want that…not yet. Not when I don't even know if there is really anything wrong._

_He worries because he loves you, _Tracker said with a faint puff of air to her face that ruffled her hair. _And I worry too, _the great silver dragon touched her cheek with his muzzle.

_I know, _Estara smiled lightly. _But you worry when there is nothing to worry about, so let's not alert the others just yet. Everything still may just work itself out._ Tracker seemed unconvinced and Estara finally sat up, trying to stifle a yawn. She looked around camp, and saw Eldwin sitting on the far side of the fire, leaning against Gilda. He looked over and smirked at her, and Estara's heart thrilled.

"Sleep well?" he asked his eyes watched her intently.

"Seeing as you slept beside me last night," Estara chuckled as she pulled herself off the ground. "That seems like a futile question."

"Visions?" Eldwin asked his face growing solemn. Estara nodded but left it at that. "Anything important?" he prodded his brow furrowing slightly. This time Estara shook her head,

"Lots of things that seem important, but without the context I can't be certain." She strode over to where he sat and lightly kiss his brow. "It's fine," she lied "It'll all work itself out soon enough." But Estara had no conviction in her words, and for once was grateful for not having to communicate with her mind, she was not at all confident that she could have kept her torrent of emotions to herself.

"We should be at the academy by midday," Eldwin said standing and with a quick squeeze of her hand, began to break camp. They made small talk as they pack up camp, but the oddness of her visions still hung over Estara like a storm cloud. She'd gone so long without a vision, that she had begun to worry, and now that they were back-but so different than before-she was worrying more. And the way her visions felt, it may have been nothing-she had to admit to herself-but the visions felt off almost wrong, almost perverted and dark. She wasn't seeing anything different, but the feeling she got when she did have a vision was making her skin crawl.

The Academy came into sight just as Eldwin had said it would near midday. Estara had never actually been there, but she'd heard all about it. When the academy had been set up, everyone had agreed that it would be best to put it out of the way, somewhere mostly unpopulated, incase something were to go horribly wrong and a student caused massive destruction. Bullridge seemed like the perfect place. Near the Hadarac desert, the are around it was mostly unpopulated, and the Academy was set up far enough outside of Bullridge that the town should have been safe from any magical catastrophes.

What no one had counted on, was Bullridge constantly growing. Being so near the academy, the small town transformed, almost over night, into a center to commerce. Supplies to the academy, trade caravans through the desert to reach the dwarves cities, people coming from all over to seek the aide of the students at the magic school, everything led to the once small struggling town to boom and prosper. The town grew larger and larger and eventually swallowed up the academy, and eventually other measures had to be taken to insure the safety of the townspeople. Estara only vaguely recalled the lecture about the long complicated spell that trapped magical energy inside the academy incase of a problem.

Almost as soon as Eldwin sounded the horn announcing their presence, Estara felt the prod of another Riders mind. _Don't worry, _it said as she felt Eldwin recoil a bit. _You may want to alter your course._ Images were sent leading them to a tall tower and a large room. Estara glanced at Eldwin who seemed to be scowling.

_Murtagh?_ he asked.

_Yes,_ Estara responded with humor. _Who else did you think it was? _Though other riders would occasionally visit and teach at the academy, they knew that Murtagh was the only Rider in residence at the time.

_Well he could have met us himself,_ Gilda chastised.

_Why bother?_ Tracker said. _He's busy and it's easier this way. Or perhaps you just got too used to the grand receptions when we land anywhere._ Estara laughed but she could sense Eldwin and Gilda irritated state. Despite the difference in Eldwin and Gilda's personalities, they both seemed to love the ceremony, both always seeming more at ease if actions and reactions were scripted. Closing her mind off to the other rider and dragon, Estara and Tracker had a private laugh. This had always been a problem when traveling with the other pair, and had only really been made easier when Estara had gotten her voice from the spirits.

The dragons effortlessly redirected and flew higher to an incredibly large tower, with a seemingly massive room at the top. Tracker and Gilda alighted in the room and Estara gazed around in wonder. The room they had landed in was enormous, she knew logically that it had to be if it was to accommodate Murtagh and Thorn, his gleaming red dragon. Thorn was nearly as old as Saphira, and judging by the size of the dais on the far side of the room, was likely larger than the sapphire dragon was. The ceiling was open to the sky as it had been when they had visited Teirm and Estara could sense the magical enchantments that kept the elements out.

The room was comfortably furnished but surprisingly untidy, the bed rumpled, and piles of papers and books littered the surface of a large simple desk, a large map on the wall behind the desk showed groupings of pins around the coast of the mainland, and Estara had no idea of its significance. Estara wondered why the room would look as if it hadn't been tended to in a couple of days, but she noted, with more curiosity, there one very large thing missing; Thorn was no where to be seen. They hadn't seen or sensed the red dragon on their way to Bullsridge, and had assumed that he would have been with Murtagh, but he wasn't. The man himself stood in front a large window gazing apprehensively at the horizon. He was tall with dark hair, and objectively, Estara had to admit, very handsome.

It was widely know that he and Eragon were brothers, but for the life of her, Estara couldn't see it, except perhaps around the nose and the jaw. Where Eragon was lean and wiry, Murtagh was thick with muscle. Eragon looked far more like an elf than any other human she had ever seen, and although Murtagh's ears were slightly pointed you could distinctly tell that this Rider was human.

"Welcome," Murtagh called from a place near a large window where he finally turned to them, seeming reluctant to pull his gaze from the world outside. He strode over to Estara and Eldwin as they bowed slightly. "Please don't be so formal," Murtagh chuckled lightly. "I very rarely ever get other Riders who visit that I'm afraid my manners are not nearly as polished as they should be." Tracker let out a purring laugh and Estara fought to keep back a smirk, she had to admit that she liked him immediately. He had a casual attitude and an excitement that did reminder her slightly of Eragon. Murtagh gestured for them to sit, and they began the long process of introductions.

"Then you are the two that Eragon told me about," Murtagh said slyly when introductions had been finished, and Estara wondered just what he had been told. But Murtagh didn't wait for comment. "What is it that I can do to help you?" Estara shot a guarded look at Eldwin, they'd been so concerned with getting here that now that they sat before him, she didn't even know how to begin.

"It's about your daughter sir," Eldwin said his voiced veiled in caution. Confusion passed across the older rider's face for a moment, before Murtagh smiled wryly,

"You mean my Oslyn?" he asked. "The true nature of our relationship is not widely known," Murtagh said with a pointed at look Estara, and she paled, wondering if they should have been less direct. "She's not my daughter by blood, though I adopted her officially after her mother passed away." Murtagh continued looking at Estara with renewed interest. "I assume that you are the seer that Eragon mentioned then?" She nodded,

"Yes sir," she replied with a small smile.

"I take it you've had a vision then?" Murtagh asked his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yes," Estara nodded once again. "It seems that we are tracking the same events as Oslyn."

"Ah," Murtagh shook his head, looking weary. "The veiled lady."

"Can we speak to her?" Eldwin asked. Surprisingly, Murtagh shook his head,

"She's not here right now," he said his voice tight and Estara noted that he glanced again at the window anxiously. "There was an attack a days flight away, that sparked her interest and she's gone off to investigate."

_Is there any idea when she will return?_ Tracker asked, his eyes watching the older rider with some interest.

"Sometime today," Murtagh said. "As long as she doesn't get waylaid by something else." There was a long pause, as if no one knew exactly what to say. "Angela warned me that something like this would happen." Murtagh said aloud, but his tone made Estara think his words were not at all for their benefit. "There are a few things you need to know about Oslyn before you meet her."

Estara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a thousand things running though her mind. Murtagh had taken a keen interest in the mortal girl, did that mean there was something dark about her? "Oslyn is gifted, very gifted, and not at all in a common way." Murtagh said a hint of pride in his voice.

"She's a magician then?" Eldwin asked.

"Not at all," Murtagh said with a kind grin. "Though I see why you'd make the assumption. "Oslyn has an eidetic memory, she remembers everything that she's seen or read or even seen for that matter. She reads and writes in several languages including the ancient language." Murtagh paused for a breath and seemed to laugh to himself before he continued. "She's extraordinarily perceptive, she sees things that others would not notice and from that draws frighten accurate conclusions. You'll see that soon enough when you meet her, but she can seem cold," Murtagh cautioned. "She is not, but she has a fairly difficult time connecting with people she doesn't know."

"Is there something wrong with her?" Eldwin asked cautiously.

"No," Murtagh said firmly. "Nothing is wrong with her." He paused looking at Estara probingly. "I don't know how much your visions may have told you about her. She's," he paused again struggling for the words. "Well she's socially awkward. She'd not particularly good with people. I think it's because on some level she's scared of them." Murtagh paused and scowled briefly before he continued. "Oslyn can tell you things about yourself, things that she shouldn't be able to tell you, not without magic, but she finds it difficult to interact with new people. She had a very scaring childhood, before coming to the academy and she's lived nearly half of her life inside these walls I'm afraid that as bright as she is, she finds people difficult."

"The exception being yourself," Estara finished his thought. Estara remembered the sweetness of their interaction from her vision and couldn't help but smile.

"Yes," Murtagh shrugged. "Me and Thorn, and a few others here. The students here don't fear her, in fact they've come to admire her quite a lot, but she's still wary."

Estara had a thousand questions, and could sense that Tracker was just as curious as she was, but as if on cue, they heard the thunderous flapping of wings and turned to see a giant red dragon descend into the room, with a dark haired girl on his back. Oslyn looked exactly the way she had in Estara's vision, but instead of a crimson gown the dark girl was clad in breeches and a dark green woolen hooded tunic with belled sleeves. Estara watched as she slid down Thron's flank and landed steadily on the floor. When her dark eyes met Estara's grey ones Estara noticed that Oslyn's eyebrow raised slightly, but her face was calm and her eyes quickly flitted away from the contact.

With hardly a glance at them, she crossed to Murtagh and whispered something in his ear. _Curious, _Tracker mused in the back of Estara's mind. Sensing her confusion, the silver dragon continued. _Dragons don't take just anyone for a ride. Especially, not without their rider. It's curious._

_Perhaps Thorn has the same affection for the girl that Murtagh has? _She suggested.

_And Saphira had a soft spot for Orik, _Tracker hummed _But she never took him flying alone. _Estara had to concede the point. It was unusual for a dragon, outside of occasional training session, to take anyone flying without their rider, but there seemed to be something about the girl that both Rider and dragon were fiercely protective of. Her vision of Oslyn had shown that. Thorn, seemed to be watching over her as she slept. As Estara was trying to piece together the puzzle in her mind, she heard Murtagh's voice and brought her attention back to the girl.

"Oslyn," he said with the barest hint of a smile "This is Estara and Eldwin and their dragons Tracker and Gilda." No emotion flickered across the girls face as she inclined her head in a slight bow. "They're trying to track down your veiled lady." Oslyn simply raised an eyebrow at them,

"You've come at a good time then, Seer" she said her voice even almost calculating. Estara narrowed her eyes at Oslyn, she'd hardly exchanged a handful of words with Murtagh so it was unlikely that he had told her anything about them. And the true nature of her abilities was not widely known, and Estara rather wanted to keep it that way.

"What makes you think that I'm a seer?" Estara said coldly.

"Simple reasoning," Oslyn said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Murtagh settled back in chair and rolled his eyes indulgently as she continued. "There have been rumors that a true seer had been born and had played a pivotal role in the recent battle with the shade." Estara flinched at the mention of her brother. "You also look like you've not slept in a few days, and when I came into the room you looked at me as if you already knew me, though I'm certain we've never met before. The only way that could be is if you had seen me in a vision." The room was deathly silent.

_Murtagh didn't exaggerate,_ Estara said to Tracker.

_But you're not convinced, _ he purred back.

_Not entirely, _Estara admitted.

"You're not convinced?" Oslyn said evenly bring Estara back to the conversation. Estara eyed her warily as she shook her head, and then Oslyn's gaze turned to Eldwin. Estara's eyes followed and she saw that Eldwin had adopted the mask of impassivity that the elves were famous for as he sat under her scrutiny.

_Even I can't read him when he does that, _Estara projected her thoughts to Tracker and Gilda both simply hummed in response. Oslyn stared at Eldwin for a few moments before speaking,

"You," she said her dark eyes boring into Eldwin. "You and Estara sparred together about three days ago," Eldwin's face didn't even flinch, but Estara was floored. She remembered the account vividly, as she rarely ever got a hit on him when they sparred. "She landed a blow," Oslyn continued, "On you right shoulder and you refused to let her heal it, so it's likely just a bruise, and no doubt out of some form of sentimentality."

"No doubt?" Eldwin asked a smirk breaking his impassive demeanor.

"It's clear," Oslyn said settling back on her heals. "That you two are together."

_How could you tell all of that?_ Gilda asked with some excitement, the gold dragon was clearly fascinated with what Oslyn could do. The dark haired girl shot an unsure look at Murtagh, who simply smiled and gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Oslyn continued,

"People who are skilled with a sword, have a tendency to forget smaller wounds, like the bruises and scratches that you both have on your knuckles from sparing," Estara looked down at her hands and saw that indeed there were several brusies and scratches that she had not even noticed. "The wounds are of little consequence, so they are generally ignored, but show that a fight took place. Rider Eldwin is favoring his left side, avoiding the right side of the chair he is sitting in, making it clear that he's worrying about brushing his injury. And the two of you gravitate towards each other almost with out knowing, so the nature of your relationship is fairly obvious." A small smile crossed Oslyn's face as she finished.

_That's impressive little one,_ Gilda purred. Oslyn simply inclined her head in thanks,

"So I assume you are here about the 'veiled lady'" Oslyn stated coldly.

"Why is that?" Eldwin asked in the same almost cold manner, and Estara sat up a little straighter. Eldwin was not at all like other elves, he was still young by his races standards and rarely every adopted the cold demeanor of his race, but here he had and she wasn't sure why.

"There's been somewhat of a new development," a small smile pulled at Oslyn's lips but never really showed. "And since we know that Estara here is a seer, I can infer that you are here to get information." Murtagh shook his head with a smirk, but said nothing. "There was an attack in a small village two nights ago that I think we can safely attribute to this specter. Thorn was kind enough to take me out there so that I could take a look." Estara saw the girls dark eyes flicker to the enormous red dragon and give him a kind look, before she brought her eyes back to settle on them. "This was the first attack that was near enough to really make the journey."

_What happened?_ Gilda asked

"A woman was killed," Oslyn said casually as if commenting on the weather and Estara recoiled at her tone. She'd never heard anyone speak so easily of the murdered. " The woman had been married several times, and each time her husband died all died under suspicious circumstances."

_Do you mean to say she had it coming?_ Tracker asked, and despite his words Estara could feel that he was not accusing her, but was trying to work her out, the way he would a riddle. Oslyn flushed slightly and quickly looked down at her feet for a second before continuing, seeming admonished.

"She didn't mean it like that," Murtagh interjected with a concerned look at his adopted daughter.

"We didn't think that she did," Eldwin said kindly. Estara nodded. Thought Oslyn seemed cold, Murtagh had warned them about this. If he hadn't then Estara wasn't sure how she would have taken what Oslyn had said.

"I mention it because it fit's the pattern. Who ever is doing the killing seems to be targeting people who have committed great wrongs in their lives." Oslyn said still staring at her feet.

"A vigilante then, perhaps," Eldwin offered, his tone probing. "Or perhaps a family member of one of her victims sought vengeance." Murtagh chuckled slightly as at some private joke, but Oslyn shook her head.

"This was not a vigilante crime," Oslyn said confidently finally raising her gaze. "Vigilantes typically like to see justice done by the law and though I would not put it past a vigilante to catch and torture the information out of her, the fact that the victim was killed in such a way that it leads me to believe this is something else entirely." Estara cocked her head to one side, the way she always did when she was confused or trying to work something out. _Murtagh wasn't exaggerating._ she said to Tracker. _Her observations are astute._

_Yes they are, _he replied. But before they could continue their conversation, Oslyn continued.

"Also a family member of a victim is out of the question," Oslyn's clear voice rang though out the room. "A family member would have been emotional, and this was clearly done by someone who was not at all emotional. The victim was mutilated, almost beyond recognition, but there was a cold, almost methodical way about this. Also interesting was the complete lack of defensive wounds."

"Defensive wounds?" Estara asked.

"Wounds inflicted upon the victim," Oslyn explained "As they are trying to defend themselves, or get away."

"I know what defensive wounds are," Estara snapped and Oslyn immediately looked at her feet. Murtagh shot her a cautioning look and Estara immediately redirected, the girl was just trying to help them. "I'm sorry," Estara smiled gently, "I didn't mean to snap. I just don't understand what a lack of defensive has to do with this." Oslyn looked up and stared directly into Estara's eyes, and Estara instinctively raised her mental defensives, though nothing happened.

"There are only two reasons why there would be no defensive wounds," Oslyn said her eye contact almost uncomfortably unwavering. "Either the victim trusted her attacker, which she certainly would not, if it had been a family member of one of her husbands."

"Or?" Eldwin asked his voice curious.

"Or," Oslyn said switching her gaze to him, "The victim was a complicit in her own murder for some reason."

_Magic could have been used, _Gilda commented. _The victim could have been controlled and incapacitated making it so that she couldn't fight back._

"It could have been," Oslyn nodded. "But I don't think it was."

_Why not, _Tracker asked. Oslyn glanced nervously at Murtagh who nodded for her to continue. She seemed to take a shaky breath before she continued.

"The murder was almost ritual in nature," Oslyn said returning her even gaze to them. "There was a series of runes that resemble a dwarvish ritual prayer. Loosely translated the runes means 'willing sacrifice'." Oslyn bent over the desk and grabbed a quill and a piece of paper, and began to write as she continued to speak. "It's possible that the killer was interrupted, before they could properly clean up the evidence of the ritual since this is new information but…" her voice trailed off and she handed the piece of paper to Murtagh who frowned deeply before passing it across the desk to Estara. She stared at the runes, something about them stirred something deep inside her but she couldn't read them.

_But you don't think so,_ Gilda said approval lacing her voice, and Oslyn shook her head. Gilda clearly liked Oslyn a lot and Estara could see the smirk on Eldwin's face that showed his approval as well.

"We don't think a dwarf was responsible?' Murtagh asked in a way that made Estara think he already knew the answer.

"No, I don't believe any dwarf would have done this," Oslyn affirmed. "This rune is typically used in a prayer that requires a sacrifice to a god. Usually as in an offering of food or a valuable gift to show devotion. They would consider this a horrific perversion if this rune was to be used in the sacrifice a life." Estara passed them off to Eldwin who stared at the paper curiously before asking,

"And you are sure that this crime was committed by the veiled lady?"

"We can't be sure that any this is the work of the 'veiled lady'," Oslyn said. "There is no direct evidence that this specter is involved, other than the occasional rumor of a sighting, but it has been curious that she was spotted around the times that all the murders were committed. I can definitely say that I think this crime was committed by the same person who's been killing around the country side." She turned to the map behind her. "If you pay attention there is a pattern, the killer has been working their way up from Surda. As far as I can tell the first attacks were in Lithgow, and then Feinstur, then Kuasta after that. Whoever it is, they are making their way up the coast"

"But this attack doesn't follow that pattern," Murtagh said staring intently at the map behind his desk.

"No it doesn't." Oslyn nodded. "But this one, I think was a departure. Clearly to get your attention."

_Get our attention?_ Gilda asked.

"Yes," Oslyn quirked an eyebrow. "Because the evidence of the ritual was not the only deviation from the regular pattern. This attack was very far inland, which doesn't hold to the previously established pattern. As I said, I think that this attack was staged to draw you out, to put you on the scent as it were." Osyln paused and her gaze flitted to Estara and something akin to apprehension coiled in her belly as Oslyn spoke her gaze never wavering from Estara's face. "There was a tattoo, on the right forearm in the ancient language that, as far as I know, was not present on any of the other victims."

"What did it say?" Estara asked, feeling her blood chill in her veins.

"It said simply," Oslyn said with a quirk of her eyebrow, "come and play sweeting." Once again the room was deathly silent, and Estara's blood ran cold at the mention of the words, she'd heard 'sweeting' in her visions and knew without a doubt that they were dealing with the veiled lady.

Murtagh shifted in his chair, and stroked his chin pensively. Estara noticed that he looked worried. This message from the veiled lady worried Estara. Gavnar, as the shade had been ordered to bring Estara to someone. She had been operating under the assumption that the veiled lady and the 'she' that her brother had spoken of were one in the same, but it was different when she had proof in front of her. She could sense that Tracker's thoughts were just as uneasy as her own were.

"If you had to guess," Murtagh said slowly as if still in deep thought. "Where would you say the next attack would happen?"

Oslyn took a deep breath before speaking, "My guess would be Teirm." She turned her back to them and stared intently at the map. "The killer is trying to keep us on their trail, for whatever reason, and Teirm is highly populated and on the direct path of the other killings. I would venture to guess that the next murder will be some one in the upper class, as it would draw more attention." She paused and scowled at the map for a moment before turning back to them, "That's provided that the same pattern applies."

"Isn't Eragon and Arya in Teirm right now?" Estara turned and asked Eldwin, but it was Murtagh who answered,

"Yes, he is. He's been looking into a rather odd illness that Lord Simion contracted." Oslyn shot a reproachful glance at him. "I spoke to him yesterday," Murtagh said in a placating voice that reminded her so much of her own father. "He said that Lord Gerard suddenly took ill and it looks as if…" Murtagh's voice trailed off as if he was looking for the right words, but Estara knew in her gut what was happening.

"He seems to be decomposing," Estara said aloud knowing that she'd seen this in her jumbled visions over the last couple of days.

"And he's alive?" Osl;yn asked the spark of interest lighting up her eyes her hand reach out and she began to absently drum a rhythm on the top of the desk. Estara nodded but the interest Oslyn showed in the macabre worried her. She was sure that Murtagh would have known if Oslyn had had some evil intentions, but she couldn't puzzle out why this whole grizzly business fascinated the young woman.

"Eragon contacted me," Murtagh interjected watching Estara, "He asked me if it could have been some sort of dark magic, and it's fairly clear that it is, but I don't know of anyone in the area who could have wrought magic like that." The beat that Oslyn was drumming increased in speed, and Estara watched the young woman's face. She appeared to be deep in thought. Estara reached out with her mind, by instinct and tried to touch Oslyn's mind, but encounter the most impressive barrier she had ever seen, but before she could react, Oslyn stopped her drumming and rushed from the room, leaving the door open behind her as she sprinted off somewhere.

"That girl has only one speed," Murtagh said with a shake of his head as he looked at the open door.

_So it seems,_ Tracker said his gaze on the open door as well.

"Was everything as she said it was?" Murtagh turned to Thorn, who simply nodded and touched all of their minds at once and showed them a bloody memory of the corpse. The image made bile leap up the back of Estara's throat. Estara could see what Oslyn meant by methodical. It was as if every cut and wound was made deliberately with a steady hand, it was almost too precisce. The ritual scene was disturbing, a black circle seemed to be burned into the ground, and under the body was the rune that Oslyn had drawn for them.

Eldwin and Murtagh were talking about what Thorn had shown them, but she only had half an ear on their conversation. Estara was wondering why she hadn't had a vision of this. She'd come to count on her visions to point her in the right direction, but now they were jumbled and made little to no sense. She could feel Tracker's concern at her thoughts but pushed them aside. _I have to figure out why I can't see properly._

_You could ask Oslyn, _Tracker hinted. Estara had to admit that if anyone could figure out why her visions were haywire, it was her, but she was hesitant to ask, she was afraid of what the answer might be. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard running footsteps growing closer and everyone stopped and saw Oslyn coming into the room, out of breath. She held an ancient looking book in her hands and she flicked through the pages as she walked to the desk and lay the open book down for all of them to see. Estara leaned in and scanned the page confused. It was an old ledgend about a witch who saved a town from a plague all of the victims of which began to decompose while they were alive. The witch would charge exorbitant fees to heal the townsfolk. Estara remembered the story from when she was a child. Her mother would tell it sometimes. In the end a man figured out that the witch was the one poisoning people to start with and she was burnt at the stake by the townspeople. Her mother had always told her that the lesson to take from it was to be wary of strangers who seem to good to be true.

"This is just an old legend," Eldwin shook his head. Oslyn laughed, the sound warm and cheerful, and it surprised Estara that the sound came from a girl who seemed so aloof.

"All good legends," Murtagh glanced at his adopted daughter and smiled. "Start with a kernel of truth."

"If we assume," Osyln said her voice warmer than Estara had yet heard it. "That the type of poison used is our kernel of truth, then we can also assume that the man in Teirm is being poisoned, but by whom still remains our mystery." Eldwin glanced at Estara and with out joining their minds, she knew what he was thinking and nodded slightly.

"Perhaps you should come with us to Teirm," Eldwin offered. A dark look crossed Murtagh's features but was gone before Estara could be sure. Thorn rumbled his disapproval, and Oslyn's eyes turned to the red dragon. Thorn however didn't comment, he just glared. Oslyn looked at her father warily, and after a beat he nodded.

"I can't argue that you would not be able to help," Murtagh said with a glance at Thorn, who still looked displeased. "You should rest here before you leave." Murtagh stood and excused himself, Oslyn leaving the room on his heels.

_Do you think there is something they are not telling us?_ Gilda asked her eyes on the disgruntled red dragon, who flapped his enormous wings twice and took off into the sky.

_Of course, _Eldwin responded echoing Estara's own thoughts.

_But I can't fathom what it might be, _she added gazing at the door from which Murtagh and Oslyn had left so suddenly. There was something off, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. A robed young man entered the room and offered to show them to their quarters and the whole group followed silently, all deep in thought.

Estara lay in bed that night, wishing sleep would claim her, but having no such luck. Eldwin's arm wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her closer as if he knew that she was troubled. Estara rolled over and snuggled deeper into his warm chest, relishing in the feather light kisses that he placed on her head.

Estara felt a tingling pain in her temples and flinched, the last thing she remembered was Eldwin sitting up and pulling her closer before her vision went dark and she saw the interior of Oslyn's tower room. The young woman was packing a small bag with a few necessities, Murtagh sitting in a chair by the window watching her his expression unreadable.

"You have to be careful," Murtagh said as Thron's head snaked in the open window and nodded, his red eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

"I will be careful Papa," Oslyn said softly.

_Don't push yourself, _Thorn grumbled.

"I won't," Oslyn promised a sad smile crossing her features.

_And make sure to get enough rest,_ Thorn chided sounding like a mother hen.

"And don't do anything rash," Murtagh added. Oslyn giggled like a small child.

"When have you known me to do anything rash?" Oslyn said tuning and perching on the side of her bed. Murtagh and Thorn exchanged a meaningful glance,

"You're right," Murtagh said. "But I'm worried." Oslyn crossed the small space and knelt before the chair, taking Murtagh's hand in her own,

"I'll be fine Papa," she smiled but there was a sadness behind the smile, like the words had a double meaning that only the three of them were privy too. Estara watched as Murtagh squeezed her hand tenderly, and laughed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes,

"You grew up far to quickly," he smiled. Oslyn sighed and quickly changed the subject,

"I tidied up your room," she said standing up and tuning her attention back to her bag. "You'll have to make sure to keep it up when I'm gone." A dark look passed over Murtagh's face and Oslyn turned back to him. After a tense silent exchange, that Estara didn't understand, Murtagh sighed and simply shook his head. With a sad smile on his face he stood and kissed Oslyn's brow and bid her good night.

Oslyn took a deep breath before turning her attention to Thorn who was still watching her carefully. "Anything else to add?" she asked and the dragon puffed smoke out of his nostrils in an irritated fashion.

_He's worried because we can't protect you out there,_ Thorn said plainly. Oslyn nodded. _You need to be careful, and try not to aggravate your condition. _

"I'll try not to," Oslyn promised and she scratched the side of the red dragon's chin, earning a purr from him. Estara's eyes widened. _What condition?_ she wondered _Murtagh hadn't said anything. _She studied the girl and saw that she appeared in decent health. There was nothing outwardly wrong with her. She heard Thorn's voice say something, but it was indistinct and far away. Her vision darkened for a moment and she saw the image of Oslyn and Thorn fade and suddenly she was in the middle of the corpse strewn courtyard where she had fought her brother.

Across the way she could see a woman cloaked in black, with a veil across her face. A chillingly familiar voice called out "Hello Sweeting."

"You killed that woman outside of Bullridge," Estara sneered.

"Did I?" the woman turned and a gentle breeze fluttered the veil covering her face. "You're right I did. And it took you long enough to get on the right path." Her voice was mocking and it made Estara's blood boil. She instinctively reaching for her twin bladed sword Seitherblads, but found that it wasn't there.

"Still haven't figured out that you're not in control have you?" the woman crooned. "I thought you were smarter than that."

"What do you mean I'm not in control?" Estara spat.

"Of the visions sweeting," the woman crooned. "But now is not the time." Estara fumed as the woman raised a hand and Estara felt a cold blast of air that threw her backwards. She sat up with a start to find that she was back in their room at the academy, Eldwin's warm form beside her. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Something's wrong," she said and she told Eldwin about the vision. She knew that Tracker and Gilda were listening in and by the end she felt better. She'd been sitting on this for far too long and it finally felt good to tell someone else about the weirdness of her visions.

_So does that mean that the veiled woman is controlling your visions? _Tracker asked with a growl.

_How would that even be possible? _Gilda chimed in.

"And what about Oslyn?" Eldwin shook his head. "Can we even trust the visions right now?" He looked at Estara for an answer but she just shrugged. They had far more questions than answers, and if her visions were being corrupted or controlled they really couldn't rely on them at all. For the first time in a long time, Estara felt completely in the dark and way out of her depth.

Authors note: I'm sorry this took so long to get up. This chapter gave me a lot of issues and I've been rewriting it for more than week now and am mostly happy with the final product. Then I had to wait for my husband to edit it and he took his sweet time about it. (Love you honey!)

Also, as per my husbands suggestion (after a long argument about it) a clarification on vigilantism. I think of Batman or Spiderman when I think vigilante, he went straight for The Punisher or Boondock Saints. As we all know a vigilante is someone who works outside the law to punish those who they deem wicked or evil. For the purpose of this story think of Batman or Spiderman, someone who steps in catches the bad guys and leaves them for the cops so they can answer for their crimes. I know it's not an all encompassing version of a vigilante, but for me-and this story- it works.

Thanks to those of you who have reviewed and added this story to your subscription list. Hopefully I'll have the next section up soon!

~ChaCha


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